#Printed Paper Napkins

[europeanexcellency]

Decoupage Paper Napkins

Transform your crafting projects with European Excellency Inc.'s Decoupage Paper Napkins. Crafted from high-quality, eco-friendly materials, these napkins feature vibrant, intricate designs perfect for decoupage art. Whether you're embellishing home decor, creating unique gifts, or personalizing table settings, our napkins offer endless creative possibilities. Lightweight and easy to work with, they adhere smoothly to various surfaces, ensuring a flawless finish. Elevate your crafting experience with the elegance and charm of our decoupage paper napkins!

[golauralacinablog]

Festive Fall Table Ideas for Thanksgiving

Create a festive fall-inspired table with orange, brown, and yellow colors that capture the essence of autumn. Incorporate rustic elements such as wooden tableware and colorful leaves to enhance the seasonal theme. Add warm candlelight to create an inviting atmosphere, and consider using decorative gourds and pumpkins as centerpieces to draw the eye. Accentuate the table with cozy textiles like…

[customprintingcups]

Why You Should Choose Customized Bowls for Every Occasion

Discover the benefits of purchasing customized bowls for your events. Whether you're using custom disposable plastic cups or custom paper napkins, adding personalized touches to your tableware elevates your gatherings with style and convenience. Perfect for parties, catering, or business branding in the USA!

Know More: https://customcups.mystrikingly.com/blog/why-you-need-to-purchase-a-customized-bowels

[beetatissuesonline]

Elevate Your Dining Experience with Premium Printed Napkins from Beeta Tissues

In today's fast-paced world, where details often make the difference, the choice of table accessories is no small matter. Among the myriad ways to elevate a dining experience, one stands out for its simplicity and impact: printed napkins. Beeta Tissues, a provider of premium quality tissue products, brings to your table not just functionality but a touch of elegance and personalization with their exquisite range of printed napkins.

The allure of printed napkins lies not just in their aesthetic appeal but in their ability to transform a table setting from mundane to magnificent. Whether it's a dinner party, a corporate event, or a casual family gathering, printed napkins add a layer of sophistication and theme that speaks volumes about the host's attention to detail and care for the guest's experience.

Beeta Tissues understands this nuanced interplay between functionality and aesthetics. As a result, their printed napkins are not only visually appealing but are crafted from the highest quality materials. This ensures that while they add beauty to your table, they do not compromise on their primary function—hygiene and cleanliness.

Sustainability Meets Style

In an era where sustainability is not just appreciated but expected, Beeta Tissues stands out by ensuring that their paper napkins are as environmentally friendly as they are elegant. Made from sustainable sources, these napkins offer a guilt-free way to add style to your gatherings. This commitment to the environment reflects a broader trend towards sustainable living, and by choosing Beeta Tissues, consumers can make a positive impact.

A Design for Every Occasion

What sets Beeta Tissues' printed napkins apart is the wide range of designs and themes they offer. Whether you're looking for something seasonal, thematic, or even custom designs for special occasions, Beeta Tissues has you covered. This versatility ensures that you can find the perfect printed napkins to match any décor, mood, or event theme, making your table setting truly unique.

Moreover, the quality of the print and the material means that these printed napkins serve as conversation starters, adding an element of interest and engagement for your guests. They're not just napkins; they're a statement of style and sophistication.

Practicality Alongside Luxury

Despite their luxurious appearance, Beeta Tissues' printed napkins are designed for practical, everyday use. They are durable, absorbent, and soft to the touch, ensuring they don't just look good but feel good as well. This combination of practicality and luxury means that you don't have to save your printed napkins for special occasions; they can add a touch of elegance to your everyday life.

The Beeta Tissues Difference

What truly sets Beeta Tissues apart in the world of printed napkins is their commitment to quality, sustainability, and customer satisfaction. They understand that their products are not just functional items but are an integral part of the dining experience. This understanding drives them to continuously innovate and improve their offerings, ensuring that you, the consumer, receive nothing but the best.

Conclusion

In conclusion, printed napkins from Beeta Tissues offer an unparalleled blend of style, sustainability, and functionality. They elevate any dining experience, making every meal a memorable event. By choosing printed napkins from Beeta Tissues, you're not just selecting a product; you're making a statement about the importance of beauty, quality, and environmental responsibility in your life.

Experience the difference that premium quality printed napkins can make at your table. Visit https://beetatissues.in/ to explore our wide range of designs and start transforming your dining experiences today. Discover elegance and functionality intertwined with Beeta Tissues' printed napkins – where every meal becomes a celebration.

[galleryyuhself]

Galleryyuhself - Throw away design for throw away packaging.

[frostedpuffs]

using my miraculous ladybug printed party napkins to pat my raw chicken dry because i ran out of paper towels and don't have any other options. sorry queen

[bluefunkybeats]

PAPAS TAKING THEIR KID OUT TO A MEAL AND THERE’S AN ACTIVITY SHEET

Papas who do a quick glance over to your child’s now crayon-infested activity sheet, and immediately finds the last ‘spot the difference’ that your child’s been taking ages to find. Leans back a bit on the chair, crosses his arm and all, and has the smallest satirical ego over it. Depending on your man, he may overdo it a bit with a tongue-in-cheek motion and might spill out a tease.

TOJI, GETO, GOJO, SUKUNA, SHIU, RAFAYEL, SYLUS (but is genuinely really helpful and leans in to help your kid, calling out all the objects in the picture again so they can get it for themselves)

Papas who are the ones struggling to find the last ‘spot the difference’ in this stupid back of a kid’s paper menu. He started out confident when your kid asked him for help a while ago, receiving the crayon and activity like they were asked to sign an autograph for the little one. But now, they’re hunched over with their hand to their forehead or pushing their hand back (supported by their elbow on the table), the other hand idly hovering a crayon over the activity sheet. It was funny to him at the beginning, but now the ice of his drink is really starting to melt and he looks dishevelled.

GOJO, SUKUNA, YUUTA, SHIU, CHOSO, HIGUMURA, RAFAYEL

Papas who couldn’t find the last word or difference in the activity sheet and during the meal give the occasional glance over again to see if they can get it now. When they start hovering over the now food-stained sheet you know they’re taking it way too seriously now.

SYLUS, MEGUMI, SHIU

Papas who take the silly crosswords as serious as a prestigious morning paper’s. It becomes a family free-for-all, and if he finds the most words, he will playfully take a sip of your drink (!!) through the straw and claim it a just reward.

ZAYNE, NANAMI, INUMAKI, SHIU

Papas who are way overdoing it with the colouring in. They’re a bit too entranced in it for a while, and theres visible evidence as their outlines are a deeper colour, they are adding their own details within the simple black printed lines. If they’re pro, maybe there’s even some lighting details made with the otherwise futile white crayon.

RAFAYEL, CHOSO

Papas who got their allocated part of the activity sheet to colour in but their section looks more scribbly and more out of the lines than their kid’s. Yeah, you can tell your man was definitely a bit too heavy-handed with his crayons…

SUKUNA, TOJI

Papas who do little silly doodles on the small blank spaces on the sides of the activity sheet. Either a lot of artistic talent or a slop doodle which is still held to high regard due to how much character is in it. Cannot commit to colouring in the images you’re actually supposed to colour in.

XAVIER, YUUJI, INUMAKI, SYLUS (draws cat you and smaller cat; supposedly your little girl who takes after you)

Papas who, as their child colours in, are giving an entire monologue, pretending they are professionally commentating over your kid’s(in this diner’s make believe world, an esteemed artist) ‘masterpiece’. “The blue tones mixed with the reds is to showcase …”

RAFAYEL

BONUS:

Papas who make little origami boats with the napkins. Eventually goes on try to teach his little bundle of joy how to do it but oh no, the little one is not having it- they just want their papas to make paper boats out of thin air for them!

ZAYNE, NANAMI, SHIU, HIGURUMA

based on this picture

[ccoconutmall]

✐ᝰIF ONLY SHE KNEW

⪼ home

yuta sighed as he cleaned off the counters with the wet rag, toge was busy taking an order, his voice cutting through the soft music playing inside the cafe. they’ve had this job for almost 2 years, and it still feels like the same routine. clean, talk to rude customers here and there, clean some more, then go home. yuta looked around so he could find something to operate his time, seeing as he had already refilled the cups, pastries, and napkins. he even cleaned the tables. it felt like he cleaned this place 6 times to get ready for the rush that was bound to come soon.

but the sound of the bell ringing to indicate a new person walking through made him look up. a large gasp escaping his mouth as he ducked down to hide behind the counter. what were you doing there? out of all the people he had to see today, when he was covered in sweat, dirty from all the cleaning he did today and he even had stains all over him. you hadn’t even noticed him upon walking in, you were busy with your friends. once toge finished giving a customer their order, he looked down to see yuta covering his head with his arms, trying to hide. “what the hell are you doing? get up you dingus.” he groaned when he saw yuta shake his head nervously, but when he looked up, he could see the reason why he was hiding. “seriously..? yuta. just take the order.” yuta shook his head again as toge groaned, not so much that he had to take your order, but the reason he had to take it was because yuta was acting like a scaredy cat. again.

he gently moved him out of the way with his foot, not noticing yuta slowly walk away without trying to give himself away. “hello, welcome to the coffee bean, may i take your order?” there was a friendly smile plastered on his face, so you wouldn’t think he was as annoyed as he once previously was. putting on his best customer service voice. you hummed and looked up at the large tv menu mounted onto the wall before you started.

“can i get a vanilla bean latte with cold foam and a strawberry shortcake?” he nodded as he put in your order, looking towards your friends so they could put in their order. once he was done typing everything into the ipad, he looked back up at you “$12.50.” you nodded and handed him your credit card out of your wallet. he swiped your card and printed out a paper receipt with your order number on it, and with a smile, you were gone and went to find a seat with your friends. “see yuta, that wasn’t so.. bad?” 

he looked down at his feet, but yuta was nowhere to be found “oh you gotta be fucking with me.” mumbling to himself, he pulled out his phone while nobody was in line.

toge grumbled as he put his phone into his back pocket. yuta scanning the area before he fully came out and walked behind the counter. “go get the order ready.” toge demanded him pointing to the machine. yuta looked at him like a kicked puppy, but he silently did what he was told, and that was making your order. 

“ynnn…” nobara dragged out her words with a huge grin across her face. “is that the cute boy you wanted to see?” she giggled as the two guys looked at you as well, stopping what they were doing before. “oh my god… nobara, i didn’t come here because of a cute guy… i just wanted to hang out since we’ve been so busy with exams recently.” she sucked her teeth quietly and put her hand on her cheek looking over to the counter. she gasped loudly “what about him?!” her whisper yell made you jump a little and look over, there was a new person there. he was tall and skillfully fixing up your dessert, making sure he used the juiciest strawberries. you watched as he cut them up, his hands were delicately fixing up your stuff. yuji laughed at your reaction “oh, it has to be. look at how she’s watching him!” nobara quickly slapping her hand over yuji’s loud mouth. “shut up! we can’t let them know!” 

you rolled your eyes at them, but yuji was right, you were watching him use his hands a little intensely, like you could burn holes straight through his palms. would they believe you if you said it was just because you were watching him make your order? probably not. “guys. please, we’re not having another aaron situation!” you yelled in a hushed tone. all three of them deadpanned “bitch, aaron didn’t even know you, that’s different.” megumi groused, your mouth went slack, but he was also right.

 “how do you know he knows me?” you raised your eyebrow at him, megumi crossed his arms over his chest before he answered you again. “because yuta, was in our high school, and if he’s here, he probably goes to the same university.” you quickly turned your head to get a peak at his name tag, but before you could say anything, your order number was called out. 

“329?” yuta called out, his voice was sort of shaky, but he looked around. “bitch, go!” nobara pushed you out and you went up to the counter. “im 329.” you smiled at him, and he swore his heart started beating out of his chest, he could feel his ears get hot trying to swallow down whatever he was feeling in his stomach before handing you your stuff. “thanks yuta!” you gushed, your fingers gently rubbing against his as you took your order and went back to your table. 

he looked at his hands, dark red blush creeping onto his face as he suppressed the urge to go into the back alleyway where the employees normally take their lunch breaks and scream to the top of his lungs. he was over the moon to say the very least. it might’ve been a small gesture, but after knowing of you for 4 years and being shy to actually initiate anything, he thinks he did a damn good job at hiding how he really felt at that moment. a large, goofy grin was spread across his face. he could feel the ghosting touch of your soft, warm hands against his still. he quickly looked over at you as you talked to your friends and looked back at his hand. 

“why are you staring at your hand, you freak of nature?” toge quipped, but yuta didn’t even care. he just sighed dreamily and looked at him “she touched me..” toge’s eyes widened, he couldn’t believe that yuta actually was able to talk to you. even if it was just to call out your order. “and! she called me by my name!” toge could practically see hearts floating around yuta, it was like he was in a cartoony haze, and toge just nodded his head. “now, before she leaves, you should ask for her number. 

yuta nodded, honestly not hearing a word that left toge’s head, but he tried going along with it. toge watched as you went to the counter again, your friends leaving to wait for you in front of the store. “go! now!” toge pushed yuta to the counter again, which snapped him out of his thoughts. 

“hey, uh.. i wanted to give you a tip, the strawberry shortcake was really good.” yuta looked at you as you handed him a $5. he tried swallowing some spit, but his throat was dry. “it’s no problem.. uh,” he couldn’t stop stuttering but he continued on. “they’re my specialty, everyone always asks for them.” you laughed, then smiled at him “i see why!” he took the money from you, but before you could walk away he stopped you. “hey, i know you might not remember me.. but do you think i could.. maybe get your number?” 

your eyes widened as you looked at him, he was visibly blushing, you don’t even know how long he’s been waiting to ask you, and even though he was fully prepared for you to reject him, you smiled at him, and he swore he could die, right then and there. 

“sure!”

© property of ccoconutmall ‘24. please do not repost, copy, modify, or translate.

taglist;

@sunflowertingzzzz, @k0z3me, @mollzaj, @mixzimi, @chiefinvestigatoremma, @evieskibidi, @7nknown

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[muzacopack]

The Ultimate Guide to Buying Printed Ribbon Online

Enhance Your Gifts and Projects with Customized Ribbons

When it comes to adding a personal touch to gifts, craft projects, or special events, nothing beats the charm of printed ribbon online. Customized ribbons can transform an ordinary package into a memorable and delightful presentation. In this blog, we will explore the benefits of purchasing printed ribbon online, how to choose the right design, and tips for using printed ribbons creatively. By the end, you'll be ready to enhance your next project with beautifully designed ribbons from Muzaco Print & Pack.

See more- https://www.evernote.com/shard/s561/client/snv?isnewsnv=true&noteGuid=67bf9bae-5945-2927-1645-80df351be113&noteKey=wmRWbPWS2q6eQdl2eGYlLVDMKpEZmtp-sbEK54rhurDiR5PqiAVUwUfDqw&sn=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.evernote.com%2Fshard%2Fs561%2Fsh%2F67bf9bae-5945-2927-1645-80df351be113%2FwmRWbPWS2q6eQdl2eGYlLVDMKpEZmtp-sbEK54rhurDiR5PqiAVUwUfDqw&title=The%2BUltimate%2BGuide%2Bto%2BBuying%2BPrinted%2BRibbon%2BOnline

[4pfsukuna]

Friday night N. Kento

Debrief: It takes a special kind of woman to get the calm reserved nanami kento acting slightly feral.

Warning: this was suppose to be soft fluff yet here we have smut, the fluff is there if you squint… and imagine.

You were no stranger to Nanami's music choice, jazz. He would listen to it to start his day and after a long day of overtime. But he secretly loved the oldies as well so you make sure when he strolls in Friday evening at 6:46pm as he does every time you meet him at the door dark curls falling from the bun you placed it in until your hair appointment tomorrow.

Oldies playing.

“Hi ken” you greet standing on your tiptoes capturing his lips in a soft kiss as you loosen his tie. 

“Mmm hello sweetheart” he purrs, trying to steal a longer kiss, his guard weakening enough for you to steal his briefcase from his grasp. He takes you in, dressed in one of his t-shirts and by the way your breast and ass is jiggling he knows you're completely bare under. His brows furrowed though when he notices your holding the animal print tie he was wearing. Looking down he chuckles seeing you had removed it off of him AND loosened the top three buttons of his navy blue shirt.  

He listens to you ramble about your day as he follows you to his study, placing the briefcase on his desk and clicking it open replacing the worn down pens and pencils. His brows furrow when you pick up a cup of whiskey with ice and hand it to him.

Routine, everything was so routine. He smiled once you placed the napkin on the desktop after watching him glance for somewhere to set it. You had everything thought out down to a napkin. To be loved is to be known and you knew him oh so well from the things he needed replaced in his briefcase, to how he unbuttoned his shirt after work down to the minute he arrived home.

Oh he was bricked up and he was trying so hard to listen through the haze but your soft lips are the only thing he can focus on. He leans in, cutting you off, pressing his lips against yours as he pulls you in close.

Setting you on top of his large cherry wood desk as he takes a seat in his seat urging you to continue. Theres a few scattered papers but other than that theres not a single thing out of place. He just can’t focus as he finishes his cup grinning lazily when you pour a second cup. Not a full one just half…just like he always does.

“—girl math. Isn’t that great love” and his heart flutters at the pet name you knew exactly how to pull his heart strings. Twirling the cup in his hand he lets his other hand that’s resting on the arm of the chair reach out for you.

He hisses when your foot presses into his crotch not in pain oh far from it, you knew just how to rile him up and you did it so…subtly. 

“Aht aht tell me about work first kento” and he leans back in the chair watching you with the same smirk you had on your face plastered on his. He’ll play your game.

“Alright sweetheart,” he begins taking a sip of his drink pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose before his hand wraps around your calf not removing the pressure. 

As he begins giving you the small little details of his day his hand glides firmly up and down your calf running over the golden anklet that matches his favorite cufflinks.

“Did you like the little note I left on your lunch?” You grin tilting your head to the side, more of your curls spilling from its bun.

“Loved it” and you almost missed the way he's inched closer to your thick brown thighs but the closer he gets the more his smile widens. 

“I can show you just how much” his warm honey voice speaks as he places the first kiss of the night on your thighs he goes to place a second and a third getting closer to the hem of the shirt when your fingers tangle in his hair pulling his head up. He makes a noise not of pain but frustration, the ever patient man losing his cool demeanor when it comes to you.

“Darlin— oh” and you're gently taking his glasses off, opening the engraved glasses case that sits on his desk, placing them inside and gently closing it back with a singular finger.

Earlier at work he heard one of the interns, his favorite one actually, itadori talking about something he seen on twitter where people were talking about the nerdiest thing theyve done.

And this? 

This just might take the cake for the nerdiest thing he's ever gotten hard over but he sees the mischief in your eyes, knows that twitch of your lips so when you jump down off his desk talking about some damn bread recipe you baked and want him to try he nearly loses it. 

One because he fucking loved bread, knew how much time went into baking it and the fact that you did it for him? Went into the second reason he nearly loses it. He was rock hard, tip leaking and fucking needed you so bad right now.

So when he has you on your back on his desk legs wrapped around his head feasting on the wet heaven between your legs ignoring the way you try to push him off. The pleasure was too much and while he may be a gentleman any other time right now he was eating your pussy for his pleasure. It was the sloppiest he has ever done it ignoring your orgasm and licking you into your next. 

“K-ken” you moan out, back arching off the desk as he sucks on that bundle of nerves, a finger slipping in your core and curling deliciously against your g spot. He starts a steady pace that has your mind turning to mush before adding a second finger. He didn’t care about that damn bread he wouldn’t be able  to eat it anyway with the way he was about to eat your pussy until his jaw locked up.

“I love you” he moans into you pushing his fingers further and a bit rougher into you loving the way you tighten around them. Your hips rock back as your moans get louder and more high pitched which is music to his ears as he pins your hips down to the desk.

“Thank you my love” he praises before angling his fingers up with a particular curl that has you squirting wetting up the front of his shirt, chin and mouth lower half going limp as you try to catch your breath.

Through a lidded gaze you watch as he eyes you peeling off his shirt revealing nothing but muscle and a prominent 6 pack that dipped into his pants covering that perfect v line of his.

Just when he thinks his evening couldn’t get any better you push him back down to his chair climbing into his lap he makes quick work of shimmying down his pants to his ankles. As you kiss down his neck leaving little purple marks, you suck perfect little hickeys thatll be hidden directly under the collar line of his button ups only there for you two to know of.

He cups your face pulling your lips to his letting you taste yourself on his lips along with the taste of whiskey as his tongue tangles with yours. Playfully biting his lip he groans into your mouth, his dick twitching under you reminding you why you were in his lap in the first place.

Through the kisses you reach down grabbing his thick length, swiping your thumb over the tip as you do and positioning it right at your core before sinking down the two of you releasing moans simultaneously.

“H-hold on sweetheart” he stutters, grabbing your hips not prepared for your soaking wet and warm pussy to welcome him like this. Squeezing your core as you twist your hips his buck up into your earning another giggle.

“Oh, My love, you deserve…Fuck… deserve all good” he slurs purely rambling as you raise your hips and slam back down into his lap earning a loud moan from both of you. Raising your hips to repeat the motion except a lot smoother your hands find his shoulders nails sinking in when his hips meet yours.

The loud squelching music to his ears, you were so obscenely wet the sounds were so lewd and your moans… the way you moaned his name was sooo fucking sexy.

Grabbing your hips he begins grinding you on his length watching the way your eyes roll to the back of your head and you bite so hard on your bottom lip to hold in those moans. His grunts become more obvious to you and you’re made just aware of how lost he was becoming in you.

“Soooo good….sooo mmpphh tight” he nearly whimpers as your jaw drops the minute his thumb finds your clit again.

“I am so in love with you” he admits, large hands spreading across your back and hips pulling you closer, your breast bouncing up against him. For a second you think he’s babbling just pussy drunk until he leans his forehead against yours forcing you to look him in the eye.

“You are so damn perfect for me,marry me” he moans… dare you say begs angling his hips up his curved tip

“Ken ken ken ken k—nngghhhh” you nearly scream his name, your head falling into his shoulder as you feel the pressure building up in your belly. He was close too— all of your faces, your pretty moans hell even the way you cried his name had him on the edge. When he starts losing rhythm his grunts sounding needy and little curses begin to slip out you know he's close. 

“Cum for me baby” he grunts in your ear snapping his hips into yours groaning when the wetness gushes out of you he releases right after the creamy white building around the base of his dick a mix of the two of you as he keeps pumping until you’re both sensitive.

Your lips find his once more leaving long passionate kisses as if you two were trying to engrave your taste in another. He releases a contempt sigh, smiling down at you when you pull back slightly.

“Were already engaged,ken” you smile full of bliss and he tilts his head in confusion as you hold up your hand the rock sitting on your finger beaming when it catches the reflection of the light.

The look of confusion lets you know that he has no idea that he asked you to marry him again and you adjust yourself in his lap a loud squelching sound rings out and his thigh twitches.

“A minute ago, when you were balls deep,” you tease watching as his cheeks go red amusing you, “you were telling me how perfect i am and that we should get married” you yawn your body growing weak. He pretends to think before shaking his head watching your amused expression.

“You give me more reasons every day to wanna marry you” he sweet talks pulling you so your head is on his chest, the smile growing on your face. He was perfect.    

An hour later you’re still perched in his lap, leaning down slightly to place a kiss on your temple every few minutes skimming over the newspaper. His pants have been discarded along with his shoes and his shirt is hanging loosely on your body as your head rests against his chest soothed by the sound of the 80’s r&b music.

You knew he was truly satisfied when you saw his foot that was kicked up on his desk, swaying to the beat of the song and his occasional sighs of contempt as your nails gently raked over his spine. 

He flips to the next page of the newspaper murmuring about a new restaurant in town that was opening soon before setting the cigar down in the ashtray you'd made in a pottery class. Along with a plate that the bread you baked for him sat on a few slices cut a cup of cinnamon butter next to it.

Relaxed Nanami kento was a sight to see, cigar between his lips, his blonde hair tousled and unslicked but that was more so your doing Its when he begins humming along that you know he's truly relaxed…and that he loves listening to oldies after a long day of overtime.

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Shadow | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, unwanted sexual contact (not on reader)

Word Count: 5069

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

Sam made himself and Dean don goofy outfits to go investigate the death of some poor girl who died the previous week. You were dressed as their supervisor, so you didn’t have to dress like the third Imagination Mover.

“You know, I’ve gotta say Dad and me did just fine without these stupid costumes,” Dean complained. “I feel like a high school drama dork. What was that play that you did? What was it— Our Town. Yeah, you were good, it was cute.”

“You did theater?” you asked Sam.

“Look, you wanna pull this off or not?” The brunet changed the subject.

“I’m just sayin’, these outfits cost hard-earned money, okay?”

“Whose?” You gave Dean a look.

“Ours. You think credit card fraud is easy?”

***

The landlady of the young woman’s apartment building let you into the deceased’s room. She called the alarm company as useful as “boobs on a man.” She explained how Meredith had been found in pieces scattered around the apartment. The landlady said there had been no signs of break in, and allowed you and the Winchesters to check the apartment out for a bit.

“So, a killer walks in and out of the apartment—no weapons, no prints, nothin’,” Dean said.

“I’m tellin’ ya, the minute I found that article, I knew this was our kind of gig,” Sam replied.

The EMF meter Dean was holding beeped rapidly.

“I definitely agree with you,” you chimed in.

“So, you talked to the cops?” Sam asked his brother.

Dean smirked. “I spoke to Amy, a, uh, charming, perky officer of the law.”

You ignored the way your heart squeezed in your chest. “Yeah? What’d you find out?” You did your best not to let on the emotional storm he was sending you into.

“Well, she’s a Sagittarius,” he said dreamily. “She loves tequila, I mean— wow. Oh, and she’s got this little tattoo—”

“Dean!” Sam cut his brother off.

“What? Yeah. Uh, nothin’ we don’t already know. Except for one thing they’re keepin’ out of the papers. Meredith’s heart was missing.”

“Her heart?” the younger brother sounded stunned. “So, what do you think did it to her?”

“Well, the landlady said it looked like an animal attack. Maybe it was— werewolf?”

You shook your head. “No, the lunar cycle’s not right. Plus, if it was a creature or somethin’, it would’ve left some kind of trace. It’s gotta be a spirit.”

Dean looked down at the blood stains on the white carpet and seemed to notice something. “Sam, see if you can find any masking tape.” His idea of taping the space between the splotches of blood like a twisted connect-the-dots revealed a strange symbol on the ground that looked like an “S” with a small circle cutting through the middle of it.

***

You were gulping down beers like there was no tomorrow and trying to peel your eyes away from Dean flirting with the gorgeous bartender. You and Sam were sitting at an empty table and leafing through his father’s journal.

“(Y/N), if you stare any harder at him, you’re gonna burst a blood vessel.”

You looked over at Sam. “Shut up.”

“You like him, huh?”

“What am I, five? No, I don’t like him,” you responded. 

He gave you a knowing look. “C’mon, (Y/N/N), don’t lie to me.”

You sighed, taking a big gulp of your drink first. “I don’t know, man. I’m not good with feelings.”

Before Sam could respond, Dean was back over at your table. “I talked to the bartender,” he grinned. 

“Did you get anything? Besides her number?” Sam asked.

Dean scrunched his face up. “Dude, I’m a professional. I’m offended that you would think that.” Sam gave him a look, and Dean bashfully held up a napkin with the bartender’s number on it in response.

“You mind doin’ a little bit of thinking with your upstairs brain, Dean?” you asked.

“Huh? Look, there’s nothing to find out. I mean, Meredith worked here, she waited tables, everyone here was her friend. Everybody said she was normal. She didn’t do or say anything weird before she died, so— what about that symbol, you find anything?”

The younger brother shook his head. “Nope, nothing. It wasn’t in Dad’s journal or in any of the usual books. I just have to dig a little deeper, I guess.”

“Well, there was a first victim, right? Before Meredith?” you brought up.

“His name was, uh, his name was Ben Swardstrom.” He pulled a newspaper clipping out of the journal and handed it to Dean, “Last month he was found mutilated in his town house. Same deal; the door was locked, the alarm was on.”

“Is there any connection between the two of them?”

“Not that I can tell—I mean, not yet, at least. Ben was a banker, Meredith was a waitress. They never met, never knew anyone in common—they were practically from different worlds.”

“So, to recap, the only successful intel we’ve scored so far is the bartender’s phone number," the younger brother deadpanned.

Dean smirked at you and Sam, and you tried to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach. Sam seemed to notice something on the other side of the room.

“What?” you asked.

Without answering you, Sam got up from the table and headed past his brother. You followed him to a table where a blonde woman with short hair sat.

“Meg?” he asked.

You furrowed your eyebrows as the woman turned around and exclaimed, “Sam! Is that you? Oh, my god! What are you doing here?” She gave him a hug, and you could see on Sam’s face that he was confused.

“I’m just in town, visiting friends,” he lied.

The young woman looked around. “Where are they?”

You stepped up from his side. “Me!” you lied. “Nice to meet you. I’m (Y/N).”

She gave you a smile, “Yeah, I remember, Sam told me about you.”

You turned to the younger Winchester. “He did?”

“Yeah, of course,” Sam answered. “Meg, what are you doing here? I thought you were going to California.”

Dean came up between you and Sam; eyes raking over Meg’s body.

“Oh, I did. I came, I saw, I conquered. Oh, and I met what’s-his-name, something Michael Murray at a bar,” she explained.

Sam looked confused. “Who?”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter. Anyway, the whole scene got old, so I’m living here for a while,” she shrugged.

Dean cleared his throat loudly, but was ignored.

“You’re from Chicago?” Sam questioned.

“No, Massachusetts. Andover. Gosh, Sam, what are the odds we’d run into each other?” The grin she gave unsettled you. 

“Yeah, I know, I thought I’d never see you again.”

Dean cleared his throat again, earning a “Dude, cover your mouth,” from Meg.

Sam chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah, um, I’m sorry, Meg. This is, uh— this is my brother, Dean.”

She looked surprised. “This is Dean?”

“So, you’ve heard of me?” Dean gave her a salacious grin.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve heard of you. Nice; the way you treat your brother like luggage,” she said harshly.

“Sorry?” Dean was stunned and so were you.

The woman didn't let up, and if it weren't for your horrible gut feeling, the two of you would likely be good friends. “Why don’t you let him do what he wants to do? Stop dragging him over god’s green earth.”

“Meg, it’s alright,” Sam said.

Dean whistled lowly. “Okay, awkward. I’m gonna get a drink now. C’mon, (Y/N).”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” And with that, you bounded off to the bar with him. “What’s with that chick?”

Dean shook his head. “I don’t know. Weird, right?”

“Yeah, completely,” you responded.

The older Winchester motioned at the pretty bartender he’d spoken to earlier for two beers. 

“Sam ever mention her?” you asked him. “They seemed pretty chummy.”

“Why, you jealous?”

You scoffed. “No way. He reminds me too much of my brother. Freud would be rolling in his grave if I was. She’s just… bizarre.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” he grumbled, sipping his beer.

Sam came over to you and told you it was time to go.

“What, why?” you asked.

“Just… come on, (Y/N/N),” Sam responded. He dragged the two of you out of the bar after you and Dean chugged your beers quickly.

“Who the hell was she?” Dean questioned as you crossed the street outside of the bar.

“I don’t really know. I only met her once. Meeting up with her again? I don’t know, man, it’s weird.”

“Yeah, she seemed to really know you,” you said. “You said you only met her once?”

He nodded.

“And what was she saying? I treat you like luggage? What, were you bitchin’ about me to some chick?” Dean’s tone was on-guard immediately.

“Look, I’m sorry, Dean. It was when we had that huge fight when I was in that bus stop in Indiana. But that’s not important, just listen—”

“Well, is there any truth to what she’s saying? I mean, am I keeping you against your will, Sam?”

Sam stopped his brother. “No, of course not. Now, would you listen? I think there’s somethin’ strange going on here, guys.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Dean muttered. “She wasn’t even that into me.”

You elbowed him sharply. “Upstairs brain, please.”

“I mean like, our kind of strange.” Sam ignored his brother’s comment. “Like, maybe even a lead.”

“What makes you say that?” you asked.

“I met Meg weeks ago, literally on the side of the road. And now, I run into her in some random Chicago bar? I mean, the same bar where a waitress was slaughtered by something supernatural? You don’t think that’s a little weird?”

“Well, yeah,” you said. “But I think I would’ve noticed if she was following us.”

“Yeah, okay, Nancy Drew,” Dean chided.

“Listen, dickhead, I’m very observant,” you responded playfully.

“Guys, can we focus, please? Look, I could be wrong, I’m just sayin’ that there’s something about this girl that I can’t quite put my finger on,” Sam continued.

“Well, I bet you’d like to. I mean, maybe she’s not a suspect, maybe you’ve got a thing for her, huh?” Dean’s grin was widening by the second.

Sam rolled his eyes and you laughed.

“Maybe you’re thinkin’ a little too much with your upstairs brain, huh?” Dean pointed to his head and then down to his groin.

Sam gave the two of you a bitchface. “Do me a favor. Check and see if there’s really a Meg Masters from Andover, Massachusetts, and see if you can’t dig anything up on that symbol on Meredith’s floor.”

“What are you gonna do?” Dean asked him.

“I’m gonna watch Meg.”

The older brother laughed. “Yeah, you are.”

“I just wanna see what’s what. Better safe than sorry.”

“Alright, you little pervert.” Dean continued walking.

“Dude!”

“We’re goin’, we’re goin’.” 

“Bye, Sam!” you called over your shoulder. You and Dean walked a few blocks down to Sam and Dean’s motel room and set to work searching for Meg Masters from Andover, Massachusetts.

***

About thirty minutes later, Sam called you. “Hey.” You continued clicking through pages on your computer.

“Finding anything?” he asked.

“Yeah, she checks out. High school yearbook picture and everything.”

Dean took your phone from you. “Let me guess. You’re lurkin’ outside that poor girl’s apartment, aren’t you?... You’ve got a funny way of showin’ your affection. Now, look, why don’t you go knock on her door and, uh, invite her to a poetry reading, or whatever it is you do, huh?... Yeah, that (Y/N) did have some luck with. It’s, uh, turns out it’s very, very old school, like two thousand years before Christ. It’s a sigil for a Daeva.”

Dean handed the phone back to you. “He’s lookin’ for a nerd definition. You’re better with that than I am.”

You rolled your eyes. “ 'Daeva' translates to ‘demon of darkness’. They’re Zoroastrian demons, and they’re freakin’ animals, dude. Dean said they’re demonic pitbulls.”

“How’d you figure that out?”

“Google, man. It’s a magical place.”

He laughed. 

“Oh, one more thing!” you gasped. “These Daevas, they have to be summoned; conjured.”

Sam sounded surprised. “So, someone’s controlling it?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m sayin’. And, from what I gather, it’s pretty risky business, too. These bitches tend to bite the hand that feeds them.”

“And, uh, the arms, and torsos,” Dean quipped loud enough for his brother to hear. 

“So, what do they look like?” Sam asked you.

“Nobody knows. I mean, summoning a demon that ancient? We’ve definitely got a major player in town.”

Dean took the phone back from you. “Now, why don’t you go give that girl a private strip-o-gram?... No, bite her. Don’t leave teeth marks, though— Sam? Are you—?” He took your phone away from his ear. “He hung up.”

“Yeah, you fucking perv. You know he’s a total prude,” you snickered. “I’m kind of exhausted, if I’m being honest. Do you mind if I sleep here for a bit?” you asked him, referring to his bed that you were lounging on.

He shrugged. “Go right ahead. I’ll wake you up when Sam’s back.”

“Thanks. Night, Dee.”

“Night, sweetheart.”

You rolled away from him, sighing contentedly. You brought the covers up around your neck, and Dean's scent engulfed you as you did so.

You often found yourself unable to rest when you were alone in your room. Some part of you was still afraid of your father bursting into your room at four in the morning to go run drills if he was disappointed in your performance from the day before. And if sleep did grace you, it was normally hours of tossing and turning before you could finally turn your brain off. But somehow, this man you were just beginning to know made you feel safe enough to drift off in minutes.

***

You awoke to Dean lightly shaking you awake. You snapped into fight or flight and gripped his wrist, shooting up from the bed.

“Whoa, whoa, relax. It’s just me,” he told you.

“Sorry,” you said, cheeks burning. “Hey, Sam.”

Sam proceeded to explain what he’d seen after following Meg into a warehouse. 

“So, hot little Meg is summoning the Daeva?” Dean quipped.

“Looks like she was using that black altar to control the thing,” Sam responded.

“So, Sammy’s got a thing for the bad girl,” he chuckled. “And what’s the deal with that bowl again?”

“She was talking into it. The way witches used to scry into crystal balls or animal entrails. She was communicating with someone.”

“With who? With the Daeva?”

The younger man shook his head. “No, (Y/N) said those things were savages. No, this was someone different. Someone who’s giving her orders. Someone who’s comin’ to that warehouse.”

Dean thought for a moment and then looked over some of the papers the two of you had spread out on the table. “Holy crap.”

“What?” You jumped out of bed and walked over to him.

“What I was gonna tell Sam earlier—I pulled a favor with my—” he cleared his throat— “friend, Amy, over at the police department. The complete records of the two victims— we missed something the first time.”

“What?”

“The first victim, the old man— he spent his whole life in Chicago, but he wasn’t born here. Look where he was born.” He pointed to a spot on the page.

“Lawrence,” you breathed. 

Dean continued to shuffle through files. “Meredith, second victim? Turns out she was adopted. And guess where she’s from.”

“Holy crap,” Sam muttered. “I mean, it is where the demon killed Mom. That’s where everything started. So, you think Meg’s tied up with the demon?”

“I think it’s a definite possibility,” the older brother answered.

“But I don’t understand. What’s the significance of Lawrence? And how do these Daeva things fit in?” Sam questioned.

“Beats me. But I say we trash that black altar, grab Meg, and have ourselves a friendly little interrogation.” 

“No, we can’t. We shouldn’t tip her off. We’ve gotta stake out that warehouse. We’ve gotta see who, or what, is showin’ up to meet her.” Sam pulled a hand through his hair and began to pace.

“I’ll tell you one thing. I don’t think we should do this alone,” Dean said.

“Dean, do you even think your dad will answer?” you asked him, knowing what he meant.

He didn’t answer but told you, “You and Sam go stake out the trunk. Get me somethin’ good.”

You nodded. “C’mon, Sam.”

You grabbed anything and everything out of the trunk that could’ve been remotely useful. Holy water, numerous weapons, and different books containing dozens of different exorcism rituals. 

When you returned to the room, Dean was talking to who you deduced was his father on the phone. “We think we’ve got a serious lead on the thing that killed Mom. So, uh, this warehouse—it’s 1435 West Erie. Dad, if you get this, get to Chicago as soon as you can.” 

“Voicemail?” you questioned.

He nodded. He gestured to the stuffed duffel bags you and Sam were holding. “Jesus, what’d you get?”

“We ransacked the trunk,” Sam explained and listed off all the things you had grabbed.

Dean nodded and breathed deeply. “Big night.”

“Yeah. You nervous?” the younger brother asked.

“No. Why, are you?”

“No. No way.” He was silent for a moment. “God, could you imagine if we actually found that damn thing? That demon?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, alright?” 

“I know. I’m just sayin’, what if we did? What if this whole thing was over tonight? Man, I’d sleep for a month. Go back to school— be a person again.”

“You wanna go back to school?” you asked Sam.

“Yeah, once we’re done huntin’ the thing,” he answered.

You felt slightly saddened. “Oh.”

“Why, is there somethin’ wrong with that?”

“No, no! It’s, uh, great. I’m proud of you,” you told him.

“I mean, what are you two gonna do when it’s all over?” Sam asked.

“It’s never gonna be over,” Dean answered. “There’s gonna be others. There’s always gonna be somethin’ to hunt.” He looked to you. “And I’m gonna need a new hunting partner if Sam’s not gonna be around… so…”

You gave him a lopsided smile. 

Sam continued prodding. “But there’s got to be somethin’ that you want for yourself—”

Dean cut his brother off. “Yeah, I don’t want you to leave the second this thing’s over, Sam.” He turned away.

“Dude, what’s your problem?”

“Why do you think I drag you everywhere? Huh?” Dean asked his brother rhetorically. “I mean, why do you think I came and got you at Stanford in the first place?”

“ ‘Cause Dad was in trouble. ‘Cause you wanted to find the thing that killed Mom.” Sam looked confused. 

“Yes, that, but it’s more than that, man. You and me and Dad— I mean, I want us… I want us to be together again. I want us to be a family again.”

Sam’s tone softened. “Dean, we are a family. I’d do anything for you. But things will never be the way they were before.”

Dean looked heartbroken, and yours ached for him, too. “Could be.”

“I don’t want them to be. I'm not gonna live this life forever. Dean, when this is all over, you’re gonna have to let me go my own way.”

You watched Sam with sad eyes, but you and Dean said nothing as you left the room to head to the warehouse.

***

You carefully climbed your way up the elevator shaft hearing Meg’s melodic voice talking in a language you couldn’t recognize getting louder and louder as you ascended. You tried your best not to make much noise while you climbed; a feat the brothers seemed to have trouble with.

You peeked over the cement slab that made up the seventh floor of the warehouse. Meg’s back was turned to you and she continued speaking into the goblet she was holding. Sam quietly pulled the gate open just wide enough for you and the brothers to slip through. The three of you headed behind two of the support posts of the warehouse. You drew your guns from your jeans and steadied your breath to attack her.

“Guys,” Meg spoke; never turning around.

You looked at the brothers in shock.

“Hiding’s a little bit childish, don’t you think?” her smooth voice continued. 

“Well, that didn’t work out like I planned,” Dean muttered to you. You would have laughed had it not been for your situation.

Meg turned and her boots clacked on the floor as she approached you. “Why don’t you come out?”

You slowly moved from behind the crates.

“Sam, I have to say, this puts a real crimp in our relationship,” she snarled.

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

“So, where’s your little Daeva friend?” you asked her.

“Around,” she sing-songed. “You know, that shotgun’s not gonna do much good.”

“Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart. The shotgun’s not for the demon,” Dean responded. You could hear the smirk in his voice.

“So, who is it, Meg? Who’s coming? Who are you waiting for?” Sam jumped in.

“You,” she smiled. Just behind her on her left, you saw shadows beginning to form in the shape of demons in flowing, tattered robes on the wall.

Before you knew it, you were knocked to the ground, screaming in pain as something slashed your right cheek and left shoulder. It was proving difficult to fight something you couldn’t see. You screamed in pain again as you felt a slash across your thigh, and whited out from the pain.

When you came to, your hands were bound behind your back. You struggled against your restraints as Dean spoke. “Hey, Sam? Don’t take this the wrong way, but your girlfriend… is a bitch.”

Dean had been tied on your right side; backs against the sides of the cement post.

“This, the whole thing, was a trap,” Sam figured out. “Running into you at the bar, following you here, hearin’ what you had to say. It was all a set-up, wasn’t it?”

Meg laughed.

“And that the victims were from Lawrence?” Sam continued.

“It doesn’t mean anything. It was just to draw you in, that’s all,” the blonde smiled.

“You killed those two people for nothin’.”

“Baby, I’ve killed a lot more for a lot less,” she replied smugly.

“You trapped us. Good for you. It’s Miller time.” You could hear the smile in the older brother’s voice. “But why don’t you kill us already?”

You thought for a second. “Because it’s not a trap for us. It’s a trap for John.”

Meg tsked at the brothers. “I like her. She’s a lot quicker on the uptake.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re dumber than you look,” Dean told her. “ 'Cause even if Dad was in town, which he is not, he wouldn’t walk into something like this. He’s too good.”

Meg approached Dean and straddled his legs. “He is pretty good. I’ll give you that. But you see, he has one weakness.”

“What’s that?” the older brother winced uncomfortably. You strained against your restraints even more, trying to be able to get to Dean.

You could see Meg leaning closer to Dean, her voice somehow becoming even more sultry. “You. He lets his guard down around his boys, lets his emotions cloud his judgment. I happen to know he is in town. And he’ll come and try to save you. And then the Daevas will kill everybody— nice and slow and messy.”

Dean’s voice strained in discomfort. “Well, I’ve got news for ya. It’s gonna take a lot more than some… shadow to kill him.”

“Oh, the Daevas are in the room here—they’re invisible. Their shadows are just the only part you can see,” she explained. 

“Why you doin’ this, Meg? What kind of deal you got worked out here, huh? And with who?” Sam asked her.

“I’m doing this for the same reasons you do what you do: loyalty. Love. Like the love you had for Mommy and Jess.”

“Go to hell,” he responded.

“Baby, I’m already there.” She slid over to Sam and straddled him. “C’mon, Sam, there’s no need to be nasty.” 

You didn’t like the full show you were being given of Meg leaning into his ear and ghosting her lips over his neck. “I think we both know how you really feel about me. You know, I saw you watching me— changing in my apartment. Turned you on, didn’t it?”

“Ew, Sam!” you scolded him.

“Get a room, you two,” Dean grumbled simultaneously.

“I didn’t mind. I liked that you were watching me. Come on, Sammy. You and I can still have a little dirty fun.” Meg kissed up his neck.

“You wanna have fun? Go ahead then. I’m a little tied up right now,” Sam responded.

She smiled and continued to kiss him. She stopped when she heard something from your side of the room. She stalked over to yours and Dean’s post and took the knife from his hand, tossing it into a corner. Meg walked back over to Sam. “Now, were you just trying to distract me while your brother cuts free?”

“No, no,” he told her. “That’s because I have a knife of my own.” She seemed confused until he broke free and knocked his head against hers; sending her to the floor.

“Sam! Get the altar!” you instructed.

He ran over to it and aggressively turned it over. Before you knew it, Meg was sent flying out of the warehouse’s window and to the ground below. Sam came back over to you two and cut you free. You headed over to the window to see Meg’s dead body sprawled over the ground. “So, I guess the Daevas didn’t like being bossed around,” Sam remarked.

“Yeah, I guess not. Hey, Sam?” Dean said. “Next time you wanna get laid, find a girl that’s not so buckets-o’-crazy, huh?”

***

You and the boys returned to their motel room so you could patch each other up and recover. You weren’t so convinced that your run-in with the Daevas was over and brought the duffel bag inside with you.

“Why didn’t you just leave that stuff in the car?” Dean asked you.

“Better safe than sorry,” you shrugged.

The older Winchester unlocked the door before you and you entered the room. You noticed the silhouette of a burly man standing by the window. You flipped on the light while Dean exclaimed, “Hey!”

The man turned around, and your jaw nearly fell to the floor at the sight of the scruffy, tanned man before you.

“Dad?” Dean breathed out.

John smiled. “Hey, boys.” He and his oldest son walked toward each other and shared a long hug. You smiled at them sadly. When they pulled away, John turned to his youngest. “Hi, Sam.” They shared a long look before John turned to you. “Didn’t think I’d see you again after Jericho,” he told you.

You responded, “I didn’t think I’d see your boys again after Jericho, either.” 

John gave you a half-smile. “Thank you. For looking after them.”

You nodded in acknowledgement.

“Dad, it was a trap. I didn’t know; I’m sorry,” Dean began.

“It’s alright. I thought it might’ve been.”

“Were you there?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, I got there just in time to see the girl take the swan dive. She was the bad guy, right?”

“Yes, sir,” the boys answered their father. 

“Good. Well, it doesn’t surprise me. It’s tried to stop me before,” John sighed. “It knows I’m close. It knows I’m gonna kill it. Not just exorcise it or send it back to hell. Actually kill it.”

“How?” you asked.

“I’m workin’ on that,” the older man responded.

“Let us come with you. We’ll help,” Sam urged. 

John’s tone hardened. “No, Sam. Not yet. Just try to understand. This demon is a scary son of a bitch. I don’t want you caught in a crossfire. I don’t want you hurt.”

Sam shook his head. “Dad, you don’t have to worry about us.”

“Of course I do. I’m your father.” He paused. “Listen, Sammy, last time we were together, we had one hell of a fight.”

“Yes, sir,” Sam nodded.

“It’s good to see you again. It’s been a long time.”

“Too long.” Tears formed in Sam’s eyes as he finally hugged his father.

Suddenly, you were thrown across the room by an invisible force, something clawing at your back. 

“No!” Dean yelled before he was thrown down next to you. 

Deep claw marks formed on a number of parts of your body— your legs, arms, face, stomach— everywhere. 

“Shut your eyes!” Sam yelled over the chaos. “These things are shadow demons, so let’s light ‘em up!” Suddenly, a bright light began to fill the room.

You and the three men fumbled your way around trying to feel your way out of the room. 

“(Y/N)!” Dean called to you while Sam called to his father.

“I’m here!” you told him. You felt his arms around you pulling you out of the room. Your leg protested and made you yelp in pain. You knew Dean was hurting, too, and you tried your best to continue moving forward.

“(Y/N), let me help you!” Dean urged you as you continued to stumble out of the room.

“No!” you said, but Dean swept you up anyway. “Dean!” He carried you out of the room and toward the car. You finally gave in and wound your arms around his neck. When he put you down in the backseat, you held your leg and groaned in pain. 

“Alright, come on,” Sam said. “We don’t have much time. As soon as the flare’s out, they’ll be back.” Sam moved to get in the car, too.

“Wait, wait, wait! Sam, wait. Dad, you can’t come with us.”

Sam huffed. “What? What are you talkin’ about?”

“You boys— you’re beat to hell,” John protested.

“We’ll be alright,” Dean answered.

“Dean, we should stick together. We’ll go after those demons—”

Dean turned to his brother. “Sam! Listen to me! We almost got Dad killed in there. Don’t you understand? They’re not gonna stop. They’re gonna try again. They’re gonna use us to get to him. I mean, Meg was right. Dad’s vulnerable when he’s with us. He— he’s stronger without us around.”

“Dad, no—” Sam put a hand on his father’s shoulder. “After everything— after all the time we spent lookin’ for you, please. I gotta be a part of this fight.”

“Sammy, this fight is just starting. And we are all gonna have a part to play. For now, you’ve got to trust me, son—”

Sam shook his head as his father continued to speak.

“—Okay, you’ve gotta let me go,” John told him. Finally, Sam patted his father’s shoulder and allowed him to move away.

The three of you watched as got in his truck and drove off. You knew Dean was right, but it was so bizarre to let this man you spent so much time looking for leave just like that.

“Come on,” Dean told his brother. And with that, the three of you were off to god-knows-where to lick your wounds and get a hopefully decent amount of sleep. 

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @here-for-the-extravaganza @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @rei0812 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm

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[lovelykil]

diet pepsi

reminds me of the aftermath of a skateboard date with kil. It's around nine and the both of you, burnt out and tired, drive for some fast food to fill your empty stomachs. Killua parks in an empty parking lot to eat before taking you home for the night. Of course the two of you eat, a few fries and a bite from your burger, but the blend of the salty savory fries and joyous laughter fills the car.

words are exchanged much more than silent munching, until you put down your food to lick the salt off your fingers. This draws Killua's attention, his eager eyes darting over to your lips. The way you suck on your finger like a lollipop simply just trying to get salt off your finger makes him feel weird. Who licks off salt like that? Maybe he was just being a perv, or maybe he was right.

you grab a napkin and look over at him, "before you take me home, wanna do something?" You ask as you toss away the dirtied paper. The way your voice sounded asking him that was far from innocent, you sounded hungry and mischievous glaring into his eyes with such a lustful gaze.

he blushes profusely, knowing exactly what you are indicating. He hesitates and grabs his phone, 9:15 it reads. Your dad wants you home by 9:45. He looks over at you, you raise your brow with a coy grin.

"15 minutes." He replies, strictly.

your smile grows and you chuckle. Your eyes narrow onto his lips and then into his eyes before leaning in to kiss him. He responds quick after your lips come in contact with his, his hand leaves his phone to lift your chin and turn his head to deepen the kiss. The sounds of wet kissing and light moaning begin to disturb the humming of the radio that plays in the background.

the both of you huff heavily once he releases you from the intense kiss, his thumb rests on your wet lip as his dazed blue eyes narrow down into yours. You stare at him with passion and curiosity but blush momentarily from his words.

"get in the backseat."

. . .

from the outside, the car windows are hazy and cloudy, a mystery to what may be occurring on the inside. But suddenly, a hand slaps the window and leaves a messy print. A loud passionate moan could be heard as well as the car shifts a bit. From the inside, it was hot and humid but neither of you cared. The fantastic feeling of your body moving against him was too much for you to care about the stupid temperature, he's been fucking you for good sake. He holds your hips as you ride out your orgasm causing you to moan so heavenly as you finish. Once you finish he reaches to retrieve his phone while you tiredly rest on his shoulder, out of breath.

9:50, it reads.

"shit, you take a damn long time to cum." He playfully teases, throwing his phone to the side. He yelps in pain from the sudden harsh sensation on his neck as you bite him. "hey! What the hell?"

you climb off him to lift your pants, "sorry, just wanted more of you." You grin at him. He glares at you for a moment, rubbing his neck before leaning to kiss you, you melt into the kiss, and soon giggle against his lips as he pulls you back onto his lap swiftly.

looks like you're gonna be extra late.

[into-the-lokiverse]

Who You Really Are (Loki, God of Stories x Reader)

Summary: When all appears lost to an aspiring novelist, the God of Stories sends a message of hope.

(credit to @lokitvsource for the gif)

You weren't sure how much further you could go on, or if you could go on.

For years, one of the biggest things you desperately wanted in life was to be a novelist. To entertain with stories of magic, power, action, romance, and a little nonsense.

But lately, as you sat before your desk, exhausted from the day job you relied on to pay the bills, you just couldn't bring yourself to move forward with your debut story. The plot felt too twisted to the point even you could barely comprehend it at times. The characters once vivid, were fading into shadows and dust of their former selves. And the scenes you envisioned in detail started to feel...unreachable.

And yet, you couldn not stop scribbling notes at every random moment of inspiration. You clung to the memory of your characters.

Like a parasite or an infection, the idea of your story plagued your mind for weeks, months to the point where it never seemed to leave you. You could barely think straight about anything else, even cleaning.

Half-drank cups of coffee at every corner of the desk, loose napkins with random thoughts written on them, a garbage can full of tissues, candy wrappers, and tea bags, a folder filled with printed images of your dark-haired, blue-eyed muse, and a stack of books that you checked out for "inspiration" but hardly touched.

The floor surrounding your desk had a thin layer of dust, wherever there weren't fallen pens you hadn't the heart to pick up, or papers you abandoned.

Am I meant to be a writer, or am I simply possessed?, you contemplated over a cup of stale coffee. Am I truly, clinically insane with obssssion? Am I doing the right thing, or have I finally lost my mind? Maybe I'm just crazy...maybe I'm wasting my time, doing the wrong thing that was never meant for me.

Or maybe I'm just not worthy of being the person who...does things. The person who flourishes in doing something they love.

But just as you were about to put your head down on the one free space on your cluttered desk, you spotted a mysterious note in parchment.

It read,

I believe in you.

I believe in every part of you, even in that couple of paragraphs you've stuffed in your desk (which honestly should be cleaned, but you won't do it.).

I believe in you because I know who you could become.

Because I know who you really are. You're a talented, blessed individual burdened with a glorious compulsivity to write and far too much fear for your own good.

But who you really are, it does not matter. It is all about the stories. The adventures.

There is a last refuge for the unloved and the desperate, and the persecuted.

When life gets too impossible, when life gets too terrifying, find hope in this, my talented scribe. That when all else fails, remember that you are a branch on the tree of life.

And in the center of that tree, there is someone watching over you, protecting you like he's always done before, and will continue to do so.

Your branch is just beginning. So marvel me, and marvel yourself with all you do. My blessing is with you.

For all time always.

Loki

[the-final-sif]

One of the funniest things about the US flag code is how little conservatives know about what's actually in it.

Like, the actual literal flag code specifically calls for the flag to be burned, which is considered dignified.

The flag, when it is in such condition that it is no longer a fitting emblem for display, should be destroyed in a dignified way, preferably by burning.

Meanwhile, things that are actually banned and considered disrespectful are wearing the flag in any manner, using it in most products, or using it for ads.

No part of the flag should ever be used as a costume or athletic uniform. However, a flag patch may be affixed to the uniform of military personnel, firemen, policemen, and members of patriotic organizations. The flag represents a living country and is itself considered a living thing. Therefore, the lapel flag pin being a replica, should be worn on the left lapel near the heart. The flag should never be used as wearing apparel, bedding, or drapery. It should never be festooned, drawn back, nor up, in folds, but always allowed to fall free. Bunting of blue, white, and red, always arranged with the blue above, the white in the middle, and the red below, should be used for covering a speaker’s desk, draping the front of the platform, and for decoration in general. The flag should never be used for advertising purposes in any manner whatsoever. It should not be embroidered on such articles as cushions or handkerchiefs and the like, printed or otherwise impressed on paper napkins or boxes or anything that is designed for temporary use and discard. Advertising signs should not be fastened to a staff or halyard from which the flag is flown.

Like it's so funny how they treat the flag and then get mad at people burning it, despite burning it being fine in the flag code.